


Just the NyQuil Talking

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-13
Updated: 1999-04-13
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Frannie takes a little too much NyQuil and suffers the consequences.





	Just the NyQuil Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Just The NyQuil Talking?  
This was inspired by my own little bout with the  
green cough syrupy-cold remedy known as NyQuil and the evening I spent  
getting very friendly with the tile on my kitchen floor. Takes place  
sometimes after Mountie Sings The Blues but before Call of the Wild.  
Hope you enjoy! :) :)  
Standard disclaimer applies.  
________________________________________________________________________  
  


## Just The NyQuil Talking?

  
by Adia

Francesca Vecchio found herself feeling as though she might be sick.  
No,  
not by the thought of that Bounty Hunter woman alone in the  
same room as  
her Frase, but actually sick. Cold sick.  
Gonna-sneeze-any-minute-so-duck-and-cover! Watch yourself,  
I-just-might-explode-from-all-the-pressure-in-my-head kind of sick.  
Lately her voice had taken on an annoying nasal whine that Kowalski was  
eating up. Everything she said caused a riot of laughter to come  
bursting from him. Then, of course, her eyes would narrow and she'd  
stomp away in her three inch heels.  
She was bending over the water fountain. Kowalski was perched upon her  
desk staring. Watching as her skirt rode up a good two inches everytime  
she leaned in for another sip. She turned toward him heading back  
to  
work rubbing her neck. A throat so sore it hurt to swallow. Even  
to  
breath. Kowalski grinned at her, slightly evil. As she passed  
him she  
managed enough strength to waste it muttering, "Perv."  
And then shot him  
a disgusted look.  
"Geez Frannie. What was that for?" He slid off her desk and  
chased after  
her with a bottle of thick green liquid.  
When he finally caught up to her she shook her head. Stan smiled, "Yeah,  
I know. Go away Ray. But really Frannie, I hate ta see ya like this."  
He  
was moving quickly to keep up with her.  
Her voice scratchy and full of misery, "Sure ya do." Barely  
a whisper.  
"Well, okay so maybe I do like it just a little."  
He admitted, a  
satisfied grin spreading across his face.  
She rolled her eyes and started walking faster to hopefully avoid him,  
but did not succeed, "Here Frannie. Just try this. It works,  
it really  
does." He offered her a capful.  
She cocked an eyebrow untrustingly at him and asked in a hoarse tired  
voice, "What is it?"  
"Thought ya might ask that." Stan gave her a wink, "It's  
the sniffly,  
sneezy, stuffy, achy, so you can fall asleep on yer  
kitchen floor  
medicine... try some."  
Francesca eyed him carefully. Inspecting him, he appeared to be telling  
the truth. She whispered, "Awww, what the hell?" Then  
grabbed the cap  
from him and downed it.  
Deifenbaker came tearing by them and rushing straight for Welsh's  
office. Fraser soon followed behind. His red serge pressed and perfect,  
"Good morning Ray." He nodded then turned to face Frannie,  
"Francesca."  
She croaked out, "Hi Frase." Then  
proceeded to plant herself only  
centimeters apart from Fraser. Her  
eyes were glazed over and glassy.  
Probably from miles away Fraser  
could smell the alcohol on her breath,  
"Francesca, have you  
been drinking?"  
Frannie launched into a full-fledged, uncontrollable, giggle fit,  
"Course not, Mountie-boy!"  
Fraser looked confused. As Frannie lost her balance Fraser reached out  
to grab her only to have her stumble backwards and into the wall.  
"Is she all right?" Fraser asked Stan who was chuckling  
at the sight.  
He brushed it off, "Oh yeah Fraser. She's fine.  
She's been kinda sick  
lately so I gave her some NyQuil."  
The Mountie grabbed the bottle from Stan, "NyQuil? Ray, this product  
contains nearly 90 percent alcohol."  
Stan shrugged, "Oops."  
Fraser rubbed the bridge of his nose. Neither of them had noticed  
Francesca missing.  
"You gave her NyQuil, Ray? How is that going to help her?"  
Stan found himself a bit amused, "Stop worryin'. She'll be fine  
Fraser... soon as she sleeps it off."  
"Yes Ray, well, that's all good and well, but what are we going  
to do  
now?" Fraser actually seemed running low on patients  
today. Almost as  
much as he had when they were trapped on that sinking  
death-trap of a  
ship.  
Kowalski stood with his hands in his pockets. Fraser set the bottle down  
and was alerted by Deif's quiet bark, "What's wrong now? Don't  
tell me  
you're still upset about this morning?"  
"Fraser don't talk to the dog. It's embarrassing." Stan followed  
Fraser  
into the squad room while Fraser went about ignoring him.  
Standing atop a desk in the middle of the crowded room Francesca peeled  
off her top. She hooked her finger around the neck of the blouse  
and set  
it flying. Fraser wouldn't have even noticed anything out  
of the  
ordinary if it hadn't been her shirt that found it's home  
planted on his  
face. Everyone in the room wore the same expression  
Kowalski did. Their  
jaws dropped to their toes. Except for Welsh  
who was frozen with his  
palms over his eyes and yelling, "Somebody  
get her outta here!"  
Kowalski took his leather jacket off and  
wrapped it across Frannie  
scooping her up and off the desktop. Huey  
and Dewey exchanged a look  
then went back to work. With Fraser's  
fingertips he removed the blouse  
from his head and delicately folded  
it following Kowalski down the hall.  
"I'm gonna drive her home."  
Stan announced to Welsh who reluctantly  
opened his eyes. Fraser  
tucked the blouse into Frannie's bag and carried  
it out with a giggling  
Frannie to the GTO.  
"Constable," Inspector Thatcher met him at the car, "We  
need your  
assistance at the Consulate immediately. Turnbull has  
managed to blow  
the stove up and burn most of the hair off of his  
scalp."  
"Oh dear." Fraser licked his bottom lip nervously.  
Thatcher demanded an answer, "Constable!?"  
"Yes sir. Sorry Ray." Trying his best to apologize, "Maybe  
another  
time." He turned on his heels with a quick nod and  
marched after  
Thatcher.  
Kowalski finished loading Francesca into the front seat of the car. When  
they finally reached her house he turned off the engine and was  
about to  
get out when she latched onto his arm, "Thank you  
Ray."  
"Welcome Frannie." He shrugged coolly, "No  
problem."  
"No I mean really thank you Ray. Not just for  
taking me home but for  
everything." Francesca took his hand  
in hers.  
He met her eyes, confused by what he saw in them, "You're welcome  
Frannie." He whispered quietly. His voice full of warmth and  
a pinch of  
mild fear. Afraid of letting his guard down, of getting  
close to someone  
again. Of being hurt again.  
She lifted his hand and pressed the back of it against her soft cheek,  
"I love you, Ray."  
Kowalski froze. He couldn't move. Couldn't breath. Was his heart even  
still beating? His hands were trembling slightly. Only a reflection  
of  
the shaking he felt inside. He couldn't bring himself to control  
anything. Was this finally it? The moment he'd been waiting for  
since  
he'd met her at the undercover briefing. Or was it just the  
NyQuil  
talking?  
Hoping it wasn't he took the chance quickly. Unsure of how to phrase  
it,  
"I love ya too." Sputtering it out as if it were just  
the polite thing  
to say. Not coming out right at all. For a moment  
Frannie looked broken  
hearted. She slowly placed his hand back down  
and let out a sigh of  
discontent.  
"What's wrong?" Kowalski asked concerned at her radical mood  
change.  
Francesca grabbed her bag and let herself out of the car.  
Still wrapped  
safely in Kowalski's jacket prepared to return it  
at his asking. That is  
as soon as she could change back into her  
shirt. After she turned her  
back to him he slammed his head against  
the steering wheel. He bolted  
out of the car and caught up with  
her. Placing his hand upon her  
shoulder he turned her to face him,  
"Frannie?"  
Tears had been streaming down her cheeks and she didn't have the  
strength to stop them, "It's nothing okay? Nothing! My mistake."  
She  
angrily began to walk further up her driveway.  
Kowalski felt his heart leap from his chest. So she was telling the  
truth. It wasn't just the NyQuil talking. He stopped her before she  
reached for the door by pulling her into his arms before she could  
refuse. He leaned his head on her shoulder and wrapped himself around  
her. Surrounding her.  
She gave in and leaned against him. Closing her eyes, hearing his voice  
whisper, "I really do love you, Frannie."  
Suddenly something very cold was pressing against her back. Her eyes  
fluttered open. Where'd the leather jacket go and why was she lying  
on  
the kitchen floor in an oversized T-shirt? Then she remembered  
everything. Glancing down at the shirt and seeing the stitching  
on the  
pocket. RCMP. It was just a dream. It had been months since  
she's even  
seen Kowalski.  
"Honey! Are you okay?" Around the corner came a red suited  
Mountie to  
pick her up off the floor. He's always been there to  
pick her up when  
she was down. Turnbull.  
When he was helping her back to bed she spotted the open bottle on the  
kitchen counter. Green NyQuil. A NyQuil nightmare. The sniffly,  
sneezy,  
stuffy, achy, so you can fall asleep on your kitchen floor  
medicine.

The End  
(~MDK~)  
October 1998


End file.
